A Thin Line (22 page)

The carpets are a bright red floral pattern with ribbons of green and gold winding throughout and around each bloom. We follow the repeating pattern until we come to our rooms at the end of the hallway.

"That's you," Preston says, nodding his head toward the end unit. "I'm right here."

I pluck my card from its slot in the folder and slide it through the card reader. Next door, I hear Preston do the same. With a click and a beep, the door unlocks, so I turn the handle and step into the suite.

"Holy…Shit."

The room is beautiful, from sparkling white tile floors to the ceiling fan slowly spinning, circulating island air and cool sea breezes. The floors are covered with an oriental rug under the plush white couch and dark wood coffee table at one end of the room and an elegant walnut four poster bed on the other end. A matching five drawer bureau, a nightstand on either side of the bed and a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall finish off the room.

"I might never check out."

It's bright, completely lit by beams of sunlight streaming through sheer white draperies that hang over two glass doors. They open, like French doors out to the patio, which is constructed of wide red planks that hold a two-person table and a brightly colored loveseat, all shaded by a canopy.

Tap tap tap,
sounds from the door. I open it to find Preston leaning against the doorjamb, holding a bottle and an opener in one hand and a pair of flutes in the other.

"Compliments of Andrew," he says, walking past me into my room.

“What about Andrew?"

"This was in my room, with a card that said
, ‘with my compliments, please enjoy'
. Signed it Andrew. So let's enjoy it." He's already attacking the bottle with a stainless steel contraption. The cork pops off and shoots across the room.

Preston pours two glasses of bubbly champagne. He hands me one and holds the other aloft, waiting for me to bump my glass against his.

"Champagne in the middle of the afternoon?"

"On vacation. C'mon, we have to toast." I roll my eyes but I bump glasses with his, the sound ringing out into the quiet room. "Okay, so... to uh...." The room is silent. Preston's face is blank. "Uhm..."

I'm trying to stifle my amusement, but Preston at a loss for words is something I rarely see anymore. "You realize, Best Man that you have to make a toast at the reception, right?"

"I have that one written. This one's impromptu. Stop distracting me." He clears his throat and lifts his glass again. "Okay, to... uh...reclaiming the loves of our lives. Or something like that. I don't know, drink."

We each take a few sips of peachy champagne, alternately watching each other and taking in the view of the ocean rushing toward the sand. Preston moves toward the patio doors and swings them open, then grabs my hand and pulls me with him toward the wood railing of the balcony. From this vantage point we can see a large part of the beach. Ahead, as far as the eye can see, is indigo blue sea.

I never want to leave this spot.

"I liked your toast, actually. Fitting, impromptu as it was."

Preston is leaning onto the railing, his glass balanced precariously between two fingers before he brings it to his lips and sucks down another mouthful. "You did, did you?" He finally says.

"Yeah. I thought it was sweet."

"I wasn't trying to be sweet. I was going for a moment."

“You made it. It was a moment.”

I glance over at him a few times and can't suppress my smile. "What are you laughing at?" He asks me, after my third episode of ‘sneak a peek, chuckle a little, and look away’. "You keep looking at me and laughing. Do I look weird?"

I reach for his hand and wind my fingers around his. "You don't look weird." I take in the facial hair, the baseball cap planted backwards on his head, the waves peeking out from underneath the brim. "You look the same."

His head doesn't move but his eyes cut over to me. "I what?"

"You look the same. As you did back then. When we were together."

He smirks, but I spot his shy smile. "I do not."

"Yeah, you do. I was thinking about it this morning, on the way to the airport. You had the moon roof open and music playing. It reminded me of when you first got the Jeep and you wanted to go everywhere, all the time.”

"Yeah," he says. I watch the nostalgia wash over him, evident by the expression on his face, his thin smile and dreamy eyes. "Back when gas was cheap. It was nice to finally have a ride of my own. I could pick up my girl and head out." 

"And you'd just started growing a beard. Just takes me back."

Preston is quiet for a few beats. Maybe he's reminiscing, too. "You look different. Lots."

"How? Older?"

"Yeah." He laughs when I smack him on the arm. "Well, not like you think I mean it. You look... womanly."

"Okay, clean it up."

"I mean it. Like a woman's figure. I mean, you were hot, back then. I was proud to be with you. But right now?" He shakes his head and downs another gulp of champagne. "I like the grown up version of you. A lot.” He smoothes a palm down his disheveled facial hair. "I grew the beard back then because I had a baby face. I hope I look like an adult now."

"Oh, trust me." I move closer and let my hand travel from his chest, down his abdomen to the warm lump in the crotch of his shorts. I stroke the length of him through the thin fabric, enjoying the feeling of him growing longer and arching toward me. In no time at all, he is hard. "You, most definitely, look like an adult. You reminded me of you back then. It was a nice memory."

"Keep those nice memories in mind," he murmurs, his eyes half closed. "Remember how much we loved each other. How much fun we had together. Especially out by the lake."

"I remember."

"I'm hoping you remember what you promised me a couple days ago. And I'm also hoping you're going to follow through on what you're doing to me down there."

I lean in to kiss him, letting my lips linger on his with a long, low, vibrating hum. "Sex, in the middle of the day?" I say, pulling back. "Well, I never!"

"We've had more daytime sex in the last four days than I've had in the last year." Which, to be fair, is true. I've loved every minute of it. "And yes, sex during the day on vacation. On an island. Especially before people start calling to find out where we are."

I wrap a hand around a bicep and start to pull him toward the open patio doors. "No one is going to call. You made them turn their phones off.”

Preston allows himself to be pulled through the door and back into my room. I grab his glass and set it next to mine on the coffee table, then lead him toward the bed, kick off my shoes and climb up. He follows suit, stretching out next to me.

"We have to finish that champagne today," he says. "I don't know where the cork went."

"Oh, don't worry." I reach toward him and unceremoniously unzip the fly of his shorts. "We will."

He sits up halfway, leaning back on his elbows. "Looks like you plan on working up a thirst."

I undo the button at the waist of his shorts and pull them open, revealing a pair of white boxer briefs. He is outlined plainly, straining against the cotton. I pause, glance up at him, then dip my head toward the tip and mouth him through the fabric. I smile at the sound of him groaning. His hips buck toward me, ever so slightly.

"Remember the first time you did this for me?"

"Mmmhmm," I hum, running my tongue around the rim before rolling my eyes up to meet his.  "And you almost passed out?"

"I didn't almost pass out."

"Yuh huh. I had to stop to tell you to breathe."

"And to let go of your hair."

"See? You remember."

"It felt good. Really good. No one ever did that before you."

I glance up at him, looking for the tells that says he's lying– an inability to look me in the eye, licking his lips, looking everywhere but at me. He staring straight at me and not moving a muscle.

"Really? I was the first?"

"And the best."

I laugh. "Stop lyin’. I was just messing around, trying to get you to make funny sounds."

"It worked. You were good. You still are."

I grunt and go back to stroking him through his briefs. I don't believe him but I'll take the compliment.

"Are you planning on doing anything more than that? Because..."

"Getting to it. Patience," I say, before I reach into the opening of his boxers and pull him out. His dick seems happy to be free, pointing skyward. He is warm and thick and pulsing. Without preamble, I take him into my mouth and suck him in.  Deep, deeper still until I've almost swallowed him.

"Unf!" He grunts, his arms slipping out from underneath him. He falls back onto the bed and lies spread eagle, in complete submission. Preston under my control is a turn-on.

I try to drag it out, tease him, make it last, but it isn't long before his hands are curled up into my hair and he's pumping his hips as I lick and suck and swirl my tongue around him. After he comes, he heaves a deep sigh and seems to shrink into the mattress.

Proud of myself, I crawl up the bed to lie next to him. A light sheen of sweat coats his forehead. He's still coming down, inhaling deep breaths and emitting light moans.

"We've been here, what? An hour and a half? And you already came? Bodes well for the week."

He laughs, then falls into a coughing fit. When he's calm again, he kicks his shorts off and rolls to his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Going to be a rough week."

"It's not like we won't see each other."

"Have you seen you? That won’t help.”

"I’ll make it worth it."

He leans over to kiss me while his fingers roam the waistband of my shorts. They don't have any zippers or buttons, only a drawstring, so I untie the string holding them on and pull them down. My thin cotton panties go with them, and both are tossed over the side of the bed.

I'm more than ready for him as he moves himself to hover over me without breaking the kiss. His body settles onto mine and I feel him between us, hard and warm.

Smooth and sudden, Preston pushes inside me, filling me in a few long strokes. We both moan and sigh as if it's the first time we've touched each other in days, and not hours. I cling to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck, feeling his body arch as he thrusts into me. I receive and push back, a beautiful symphony of movement and sound and sheer enjoyment.

"Sex," he huffs into my ear. "On vacation. In the middle of the day. In a Penthouse suite. On an island. Tell me this shit isn't perfect, right now."

I can only pant and wheeze and moan
oh my God
over and over, but I nod as I catch his eye. He smiles and dips his head to my neck, bathing me with his tongue. His stubble is pricking my skin but it doesn't bother me; rather it adds another point of pleasure that brings me the edge of climax. I'm pulsing around him, trying to hold back, make it last.

"I feel you," he says, watching me, not skipping a beat. "You're close."

"Mmmmm!"

"I got mine. Don't hold back, I want to watch."

That’s all he has to say before my climax weaves its way through my body, arching my back, pointing my toes, pulling the oddest sounds from my throat and sapping my strength.

Preston's thrusts finally slow and then stop. He pulls out and then lays next to me, slides one arm across me and listens to me try to catch my breath.

"So, I have an addendum to your statement, Counselor."

He groans. "Already submitted."

"I know it's already submitted, that's why it's an addendum. You quit your job last week and already forgot how to lawyer? Should I call Troy to work this out?"

His eyes are closed but he's smiling. "What clause are you seeking to add?"

"You."

His eyes open and he lifts his head so he can look at me. "What?"

"Sex. With you. On vacation. In the middle of the day. In a penthouse suite. On an island. Tell me this shit isn't perfect, right now."

He leans down to kiss me, a sweet gentle quiet peck on my lips. "Submitted with Addendum. Sex. With you. On vacation. In the middle of the day in a penthouse suite on an island. It’s perfect."

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm interrupted by a loud, shrill ring that makes me almost jump out of my skin. Preston's drops his head to my shoulder. I can feel his body shaking with laughter.

"Right. There are phones in the rooms." He nods his head toward the corded white phone on the nightstand near me. "Get it. You know it's one of your girls."

I roll over and reach for the phone, grumbling. "Like you're not here with your boys. Hello?"

I awake at sunrise. I'd partied hard for a few hours before the past four days–specifically events the day before–caught up with me. I left Preston, happily drunk and holding court with the guys, swapping stories of our youth and indoctrinating Matt into the group. I stumbled back to my room and managed to take my sundress off and throw on a night shirt before I fell into the bed and a deep sleep.

Around 2am, my slumber is interrupted by the click of the door lock. I sit straight up in bed and yelp, "Who's there?" while blindly flailing my arms about, feeling for a lamp but not remembering where they were placed in the room.

"It's me," says a voice, almost whispering. Soft light from the lamp floods the room and Preston stands next to the bed, gazing down on me with amusement in his eyes. He's wearing the hotel bathrobe again, so he'd obviously gone to his room first and changed. "Do you want me in here, or should I go back to my room?"

I lay a hand over my heart, which is trying to gallop out of the left side of my chest. "I forgot I gave you a key." Reaching across the bed, I pull the covers down, making an opening for him. "I want you here."

"Good," he said, untying the robe and kicking off the flip flops he'd worn from his room to mine. "Because I wasn't leaving."

"Then why ask me?" I say, grumbling as I scoot over and make room for him. Clad only in boxer briefs, he slips under the covers with me and reaches to snap off the lamp before he lies down, wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. This gesture makes me smile. I'm snug up against him, his chest hair and cool skin and beard stubble molding me to him.

"Common courtesy," he answers. "Ever hear of it?"

"Sure, I have. Surprised you know the meaning of it, though."

"If I don't surprise you once a day, I don't feel like I'm on my job."

"Well, you're on your job," I mumble. My eyes drift shut and I am on my way back to sleep.

"Did I do okay, tonight? I mean... did I play the role okay?"

I nod, my forehead swishing against the crisp fabric of the pillow. "Perfect. I was actually really annoyed with you."

His head lifts from the pillow. "What? When?"

"When you sat down next to me on the bench outside the bar, practically pushing me off of it, dropped a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek and yelled, ‘
what's up, roomie!
' loud enough for most of the island to hear. You're really irritating when you want to be."

"It's a gift."

"It's an annoying gift."

"But you're not mad at me right now, right?"

I snuggle even closer to him and lay my hand over his, draped across my thigh. "Not a bit."

A few hours later, the fiery orange glow of the sun rises over the island. The geniuses that we are didn't think to close the drapes over the windows nor the French doors to the patio, so as soon as the first rays break the horizon, the room is filled with a dusty pink glow. Shards of sunlight poke at my eyelids until I force them open.

All is quiet, save the muted sounds of the ocean running over the sand at the shore. That, and Preston's snore. During the night he'd rolled over, away from me. I have a nice view of his back and tight curls in a mess all over his head.

I sit up and stretch, then work my feet out of the blankets and crawl out of the bed. The room is cool; I rub my arms to alleviate the chill bumps. I pad to the bathroom and empty my bladder, still full from the night before. At the sink, I wash my hands and then my face, brush my teeth, smooth my hair down and head back into the bedroom.

Preston is exactly where I left him, lying on his side, both arms hanging off of the edge of the bed. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes shut tight. I can't suppress my urge to lean over and drop a kiss on his forehead. My lips gently brush the smooth skin near his hairline and I dare to smooth the cowlick at the top of his head.

A strong hand claps around my thigh, sudden and swift. His eyes pop open and he says, in a gritty, slumber filled voice, "Where you going?"

I scream and then laugh, then punch him in the shoulder. "Let go of me!"

He sits up, grabs me by the waist and hoists me onto the bed. I land in his lap and throw my arms around his neck. He dips his head to me and drops a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

"I need to brush, so that'll have to do for now. What are you doing up?"

"Sun woke me up," I answer, beaming up at him. He's so beautiful to me, from the wild Alfalfa- like curl at the top of his head to his warm smile and sturdy, strong physique holding me close to him. "And my bladder. I think I drank a pitcher of Margaritas by myself. What are you doing up?"

"You woke me up," he says, tipping his head back and letting a yawn escape him. "I heard you in the bathroom. I wasn't even going to mess with you but you had to come set those lips on me."

"Mmmhmm, I couldn't resist."

"That's usually what happens," he says, then realizes what he's just said. "I–I mean..."

"I know, Preston. I know. You don't have to walk on eggshells with me. I hope you don't think you do."

"No, I don't think that. Some things are better left unsaid. Like bragging about how much the ladies want me and find me irresistible."

"You once told me that you were a virile, attractive young man, that you never had to be alone if you didn’t want to be and that you could basically get any woman you wanted." I shrug, gazing up at him with innocent, doe eyes.

"I said that, huh? Well I was probably trying to impress you."

"Probably."

"Besides, it's true."

I let one eyebrow raise in question. "Oh?"

"Look who's sitting in my lap right now?" He asks this question as he slaps my thigh and then grips the meaty underside.

I laugh, heartily, kicking my leg out of his grip. "You are a pompous asshole."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I stretch up to kiss him, my lips lingering on his for a few seconds. "But you're my pompous asshole."

"That's what I'm talkin' about." He pushes me off of his lap and rolls out of bed. "Speaking of full bladders...”

***

A few hours later, we take the elevator to the ground floor of the hotel and part at the entrance doors. Preston is in regulation golf attire-knee length plaid shorts, white sneakers and a polo and headed to the golf shop to rent clubs and spend the morning bonding with the men.

I head in the direction of the Spa, wearing my swimsuit under a sheer cover-up that flutters in the breeze as I pick my way down the sidewalk. I'm aware of the grin on my face and I'm trying hard to erase it.

Preston and I spent the morning having slow, quiet, decadent sex and then we had breakfast out on the patio while we watched the island wake up. By the time we dragged ourselves inside to get ready for the day, I was wishing we hadn't planned so many events. Or at least that we could beg off and steal away and be with each other. We definitely needed to come back. Or go someplace else, just the two of us.

I smile again, thinking how nice it would be to go away with him and have him all to myself.

I am the last to arrive at the spa, a spacious two floor complex bathed in white. Morgan requested The Bridal Party Package, which includes a full body massage, a sea salt scrub, a facial, paraffin dip for hands and feet and a manicure and pedicure. Outside of that, we could opt for a mud bath or a sea kelp soak or a dip in the Jacuzzi.  

Morgan and her entourage are seated in the quiet lounge area, heads bent over clipboards, pens scratching across forms. Soothing guitar music floats from the speakers above us and aside from the ever present sound of the ocean in the background, the ten foot salt water fish tank bubbles and gurgles. I find the sound relaxing as I grab a clipboard with the permission slips and a pen and take a seat to fill out the paperwork.

"So how did things go last night, Angie?" Brandy is asking, her thick lips bent into a smirk.

"You guys are real funny. Real funny."

Morgan laughs. "Aw, I'm sure it wasn't that bad. He promised he would be good."

"How come he was in your room when I called you yesterday?" Brandy again. Nosy bitch.

I balance the clipboard on my knees and mechanically fill in my information–name, address, date of birth.  I pause to answer. "You must be joking. You put him in a room next to mine, in a hotel off by ourselves. Where did you think he was going to end up? He couldn't wait to get to my room."

"Did you guys get champagne?" Morgan asks.

"Preston drank most of it,” I answer with what I hope is a convincing, nonchalant shrug. It's the truth, actually. "He dragged me out to the balcony and we did a toast."

"A toast to...." Jackie lets the end of her question trail off, leaving me to fill in the blanks before she fills them in for me.

"We actually pulled this thing off without killing each other. I think that's a toastable event for us." 

She looks disappointed when I don't admit to having wild sex with Preston (in the middle of the day, on vacation, on an island) and exclaim that I am falling for him all over again. She'll probably go into premature labor when she finds out.

I finish filling out my forms and stack them on top of the pile that has gathered. I return the clipboard and the pen and turn to Morgan. She is bright-eyed and sunny with a wide blue headband holding her locs back. She looks happy-giddy is more the word, despite what I am sure was a late night for her. She will be running on sheer adrenaline until the moment she says
I Do
.

"Are we ready to get this show on the road, or what?"

Jackie can't have a massage because of her pregnancy, so she wanders from station to station, visiting with everyone and helping the staff deliver water and towels, along with coffee and mimosas. She settles into a worn leather chair and hands me a flute of barely orange tinged champagne. I'm lying on my stomach and enjoying my massage but that doesn't stop me from trying to sip my drink.

She folds her hands over her belly and glances up at me, her brown eyes wide and full of fake innocence. I am almost positive she knows, but I'll never admit it. "So..."

I take a few sips and, frowning, hand the flute back to her. "Jackie, I swear if you ask me something about Preston I will sucker punch you. I don't even care that you're pregnant."

"You would not," she shoots back, not in the least afraid of me.

"Try me."

"Okay. Fine. I won't ask about Preston. How's life? How's work? How's your dad? What's up with Preston?"

I groan and press my head into the opening provided in the massage table.

"Oh I know, but I have to ask, because you two look so happy right now and I would love it if that meant that–"

"Jackie?" I manage to sound stern and even a little angry.

I can almost feel her pained squint as she answers, "Yes?"

"Go find someone else to bother. I'm trying to relax and you keep bringing up a person I don't want to talk about."

"No, don't kick me out. I'll be good. Tell me about work. How's it going? Still really stressful?"

"It's alright. Better now that the case I where I was up against Preston is over.  I'm happy to not be there right now."

"You said a few weeks ago that you might be burnt out at the firm." I did? Damn, Morgan's Bachelorette party! What else did I say?  "Are you still feeling that way?"

"You know..."   I tip my head to the side and sigh as the masseuse works his hands skillfully across my lower back. I carry a lot of stress there; I feel it oozing away with every wave of his hand across my skin. "I like being the kind of attorney that does good things. Fights for the underdog, the wronged tenants and the victims of uncaring utility companies and thieving plumbers. I like solving legal problems. I never want to defend murders or drunk drivers. Troy loves that stuff and so does Preston.  I love the human interest kind of cases."

"So why can't you keep taking those kinds of cases?"

I lift my head and reach for my glass. Jackie hands it to me and watches me sip, then takes it back as I lick the sweetness off of my lips. 

"It's not up to me. They're assigned. And it seems like the partners want to move away from the services function of law and be more of a defense firm."

My caseload, at the moment, is a teenager accused of shoplifting, an elderly woman that accidentally backed into another car and a property damage case in which a city water main broke and flooded a home. Not the cream of the crop, not my forte and not anything I really want to be doing. While I'm researching the rights of the city vs. the rights of a citizen, or whether or not a seventeen-year-old can be tried as an adult for theft, or if an eighty eight year old should even still have a driver's license, people lose their homes every week due to housing discrimination. That's my heart's work... but since
Sanchez v Bailey
settled, the partners want me working on more complicated legal issues. They think it's a promotion, but it isn't.

"The mission seems stagnant, like they're moving away from the work that put us on the map. They assign me to what they think I can win."